Love on Zambai VII
by Black-Hat Jack
Summary: AU Spriggs fic. Something's wrong with Meme, and a certain cartoon porn loving mechanic wants to find out why. Please be nice when reviewing, I'm not all that great at writing.
1. Chapter 1

**_DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NO OWNERSHIP OVER HALO, OR THE MACHINIMA SERIES SPRIGGS, OR ANY OF THE OTHERS THAT ARE MENTIONED IN THIS PIECE OF FANFICTION. THEY ARE OWNED BY BUNGIE, RUNNING GUN STUDIOS, ROOSTER TEETH, AND TREESUNK PRODUCTIONS._**

Hi-yo. This is Black-Hat Jack, with an attempt at 3 things.

A Spriggs fanfic

A ROMANCE fic. (THAT is a BIG challenge)

A song fic. (Easy, but I've never done anything like it. That's what she said.)

Oh and expect a cameo of several other machinimas

Anyway, 'ere ya go.

(BTW, this is after the chaos with Pink Squad, Command, and the aliens.)

* * *

Triple M, or Mitch Miles Murphy, woke up the usual sounds of Zambai VII. The screeching of tires, gunfire, explosions, and Willy's psychotic roars of "GET BACK HERE AND **_DIE_**, SPRIGGS!"

Yep. A usual Monday.

Triple M, who was wearing a green t-shirt and boxers instead of his Hayabusa armor, stumbled out of his bunk, and nearly falling back into it when he slipped on one for his anime collections. (A/N. CARTOON PORN!)

He looked at the warzone-like mess that was his room. Empty fast food wrappers (Courtesy of Willy, who had finally decided to share his food supply with everyone.), open boxes of his anime, a computer, and various tools were scattered about the place.

Their base at Zambai VII had over gone a LOT of upgrades. The repairs on the bases walls (The High Ground ones), the computer, and its murderous options such as the obibital bombardment, and, the most deadly, the cake option were deleted. Along with it's two-faced, evil A.I.

Even the recreational items had been fixed. The base's shitty kitchen had bee upgraded, and the MREs were replaced with actual food. And the TV was upgraded also, even given channels showing constant reruns of old shows, like Family Guy, The Simpsons, American Dad, and even the ancient Monty Python TV series.

* * *

"Hey Hammer, Meme." Triple M muttered, opening a cabinet to grab a box of cereal.

"Yo Triple M. Did Willy wake you up?" Hammer asked, swallowing a strip of bacon.

Even their Lieutenant got patched up. He looked like he did before the accident. And he even got another name to add to his little black book; the nurse who watched over him when the poor bastard was shipped out for medical attention.

"No, not really. How are you Meme?"

The normally cheerful medic remained silent, barely looking up from her untouched plate of waffles.

"Meme? You ok?"

She then looked up, her blonde hair askew, mumbling "Yeah, I'm fine."

'_This is not like her._' Triple M thought, a concerned look on his tired face.

His train of thought was interrupted when Hammer blurted out "Hey, I just remember its Valentine's Day."

"How much hate mail do you expect this year?"

"Oh fuck off, furry lover." Hammer grumbled, throwing his bacon-grease covered fork at the mechanic's head, which stabbed him in the forehead.

Meme, however, instead of laughing at their antics, merely placed her plate on the counter and trudged off towards the med bay.

"Yeah… there is _definitely_ something wrong with Meme."

"So?" Hammer countered, "It's not like we should care. Maybe it's that time of the month for her."

Triple M sighed at Hammer's idiocy and general douchebaggery. "First of all, because she's the medic, and if she's depressed, she might kill herself. Which would suck, because we'd have no one to tranquilize Willy with those homemade darts of hers. And secondly, her period was only a few days ago, don't you remember?"

"Yeah," Hammer said wistfully, "She kicked Willy in the balls for accidentally walking in on her while she was in the shower. I should have had a camera."

"Yes," the mechanic agreed impatiently, "But don't you want to know what's up with Meme?"

"Would I get any form of reward out of solving this mystery?"

Triple M sighed. 'Gah, nevermind, you douche."

* * *

"Hey, Mitch Green! Happy V day!"

Triple M smiled, gazing up at the computer screen, which was showing a large group of multicolored soldiers.

Rainbow Squad. Tom Red, Wendy Yellow, Jim Black, Phillip Blue, Allison Orange, and the dim-witted Sarah Pink.

"Hey guys. How's life?"

A chorus of answers like "Pretty good", "Fuckin' schweet.", and a random moan from both Wendy Yellow and Jim Black, who had ran off screen.

Phillip Blue immediately developed a crestfallen look.

"Aww, don't be sad Phil. I here someone close to you has the hots for you."

The young rookie perked up immediately "Oh really? What's her name?"

Triple M merely smirked and leaned back into his chair, grabbing an orange from the bowl on the table next to him.

"Oh, I don't know." He held up the bright fruit for all to see. "I bet she likes _oranges_, though."

Both Phillip and Allison gave a look at each other. Tom had run off, and Sarah walked back to her room on her MySpace page.

"Gotta go, bye Mitch!"

Triple M peeled the orange, popping a chunk of the delicacy in his mouth.

'_Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match!_' he thought.

* * *

I realize this is rather short, and to be quite honest, not all that great.

But, I've had this idea in my head for a while. So, It'll probably be about three or four chapters.

Meh. I like my work.

Oh, and I'm hoping your reviews are constructive and positive.

And I am highly anticipatling your review, Mad Maiden.


	2. Chapter 2

Yo, I'm back. I promised I'd update soon, so here I am, at 12:30, with a fresh chapter for you, fueled by Pepsi, blueberry bagels, and the dreams of an aspiring novelist sitting in front of his flickering monitor.

I've had a busy day, so quit yer bitchin'.

* * *

"Wait, it's Valentines Day, right?"

"Yep."

"And Meme's all sad and stuff, right?"

'That's a given."

"So, just ask her if anything happened on Valentine's Day. Sometimes people get depressed on the anniversary of some horrible event…"

Triple M heard a stifled sob following his friend's advice. "Mackenzie, why?! Why did she have to die?!"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Was she a relative or friend?" Mitch asked, sitting up to hear his friend's consul.

"Girlfriend, actually. We broke up, then she moved, and we were forced to part ways. A year later I got the news she died of cardiac arrest. And I flunked my algebra final too. Wasn't a good day to be me."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Jack scoffed, "Eh, it's alright. I suffered, I came through it, and she's in a better place. The thing is with this girl, though, does she mean a lot to you?"

At this, Triple M just sat and thought. '_I never really have though about it. She's a nice girl. Really pretty, too. And we _are_ the only people on the planet who can actually hold a civilized conversation._'

"…I really don't know."

"Ah. Well, when you do, give me a call. I've got lots of experience with the ladies."

"…"

"…"

"Name 5."

"What?"

"Name 5 of the girls you've gone out with." Triple M requested, a smug grin ghosting over his face.

"Mackenzie, Taylor, Phoebe, Molly, Rebbekah." Jack, said, counting each girl on his fingers.

"Name 5 more."

"…"

"…"

"Go fuck yourself."

The call ended, Triple M howling with mirth and gasping for air on the floor.

* * *

Spriggs grew even more nervous as he sped off on his trusty steed. Willy hadn't been at his usual spots around the base. Not the armory, not his pig-sty of a room, not the garage, or the mess hall.

'_He's obviously up to something._' He thought, speeding past the barracks hallway, nearly splattering Triple M, who, at the moment, was thinking, his mind ticking away like a clock.

'_Ok, based on Jack's advice, and my common sense, I just walk up to Meme, strike up a conversation, and then blurt out the question and pray to God she doesn't kill me… I just need a good reason to see her.'_

The plotting mechanic looked up, seeing a blur of standard-issue red and gun metal green zip past him.

"Hey Spriggs, could you come over here for a second?"

* * *

"JESUS, GOD, IT _HURTS_!!"

The roar of Triple M in pain awoke Meme from her daze, her hair flying everywhere, grabbing various medical equipment.

She saw Triple M, torso bruised and bleeding, being helped in by Spriggs.

"Spriggs!" she berated, "How many times have I told you? If you want to run over someone to entertain yourself, just run over Willy."

He nodded, mute as always, trudging back to his Mongoose. Triple M just lay on the examination/autopsy table, hoping to find the source of Meme's problem. He pulled off the remains of his bloody, tattered shirt, exposing his wounds for her to poke and prod at. Instead of a cold razor being stuck into his gut, as he had expected, all he felt was a warm pair of soft hands massaging his chest.

Meme's hands.

"Ummm… now, I'm not complaining about being massaged by a hot nurse, but would be ok if I asked 'What the hell are you doing?'"

She gave a small giggle, her first laugh in a while. "It's Aloe Vera. It's supposed his help bruises, cuts, and scrapes. Don't feel too lucky for this treatment, because it'll start to burn in 3, 2-"

"OW!!!"

At this point, Triple M flailed around like a man possessed, screaming all the while.

"Told you so."

Her only reply was a demonic scream. He calmed down a few seconds later, panting.

"Hey, Meme… I… have a question for you."

"Ok, well shoot." She said, putting away the bottle and washing her hands in the sink.

"Well, you've been acting all distant and weird. I know it has something to do with it being Valentine's Day. Did anything happen?"

Meme said nothing. Which was a sign to Triple M that he was going to die. He closed his eyes shut, hearing her footsteps get louder, waiting for a scalpel or something to be thrust into his heart.

"You wanna know what _didn't_ happen, Mitch?" she whispered, deadly as poison. "This."

Triple M was both shocked and happy about what happened next.

She kissed him. Not like someone would have if they were drunk off their ass at a strip club, a meaningful kiss. Triple M soon came over his shock, returning the kiss with an equal amount of passion, lifting Meme up on top of him.

"Hmm. Girl on top. Always the gentleman, Mitch, ol' buddy."

The pair turned, looking to see who the eavesdropper(s) was.

It was Hammer and Willy.

And incredibly awkward silence followed.

"Hey guys… umm… how long have you been standing there?"

* * *

Right. And thus ends part two of Love on Zambai VII.

BUT, it's NOT over yet, folks, just give me another few weeks, and I'm sure it'll be done.

_**HOW**_ will Hammer and Willy react to the scene?

_**WHAT**_ is Willy up to _this_ time?

_**WHY**_ am I typing like this?

All these will be answered, in the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

*Runs away from angry crowds with torches and pitchforks* I am _**SO**_ sorry for the delay, my faithful reviewers! I have found myself incredibly busy with school. Mostly perplexing algebra homework, TONS of projects from my World History teacher, and concert band.

And so, without any ado, whatsoever, I give to you, mein Freunde, the third chapter!

* * *

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

The four of them remained in an uncomfortable silence, until Hammer cleared his throat and said "You know what? I honestly don't care anymore. I'm just gonna walk away." And he did just that.

"Yeah… Well, time to go kill Spriggs." Willy cheerfully said, cocking his shotgun.

Triple M just said nothing, expecting a lot more from them. His attention on his friends charged when Meme hugged him tighter.

"This is something that I had never been able to do on a Valentine's Day." She whispered. "Just be with the one I love."

"What about Hammer?"

She snorted into his chest, "Him? He bailed on me for another girl. And he bought me a pack of Slim Jims as a present."

"Would you be offended if I killed him?" Mitch asked, jokingly, of course.

She laughed too, bringing her face up to smile at him. '_His eyes are green. I just noticed._' She thought, kissing him.

Triple M sat up, cuddling Meme in his lap. "Meme, I'm gonna treat you like the princess you are tonight. Wear something nice, I'll find us a nice, quiet spot."

She sighed, happy that she was finally treated right. "Ya know, your wounds might need cleaning. Take a shower."

"Alright." He groaned, rolling his eyes.

"If you want, I can clean you up. _All_ of you." She said, winking, a sexy smirk on her face.

"Just give me two minutes to make a call and I'm yours."

* * *

"Yello?" Said a British-accented voice.

"Jack? Is that you?" Triple M asked

"No, I am A.I Unit Zeta from Project: FREELANCER. How may I be assistance to you, Sergeant Murphy?"

"Well, could you get Jack for me? I need him to do a huge favor for me."

"Yeah… he's having some private time."

"…"

"He's sleeping?"

"…"

"He died?"

"Still don't believe you."

"Ok, fine," the belligerent A.I huffed, "But he won't be happy."

Jack walked into view, hair disheveled, shirtless, and looking angry and sleepy.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"

Triple M grinned at his friend's reaction "Hey Jack. Is this a bad time?"

"Well, yes and no. You ask Meme yet?"

He nodded, grinning even more. "Yeah, and I need you to do us a huge favor. Could you drive somewhere?"

"50."

"20."

"35."

"Done."

"Great. Thanks man."

'_I love Valentine's Day._' Triple M thought, What Ifs and Maybes popping up in his head about tonight.

* * *

Everything had been going smoothly. Willy hadn't popped up out of nowhere with a rocket launcher or some other high explosives, but Spriggs just stayed shut in the garage with his favorite toy. Still, it was a good thing for Triple M. He was just waiting for Meme to put on her dress. Likewise, Jack was just waiting, in a simple tuxedo, looking like "A proper cauffuer", as Hammer put it. But he had something to occupy his time.

Singing.

_Loudly._

Jack wasn't bad at singing, but he wasn't perfect either. It was just annoying.

"_Oh, for I survived to sing this tune  
from the back of a broken dream!_"

"Jack, could you shut up? Your singing of 550 year old music is getting on my nerves."

"Ok, ok, fine." He grumbled, putting his feet on the dashboard. "Why do girls take so long to get dressed? I mean, they're only going to be wearing the dress until the dinner is over, and next thing you know, it'll always look the same. Crumpled up on the floor next to your bed."

"Well, would you rather them look like filthy hobos?"

"Touché. So what're you going to give Meme for a present?"

"There's nothing on this planet besides military bases commanded by units General V. wanted gone."

"Touché… again."

Jack ran his hand through his recently buzzed hair. He still hadn't gotten used to the lack of hair. He put his helmet on, making the image of the teen incredibly comical.

"Hey Hammer;" Jack said though his com. "Is Willy anywhere near our spot?"

"No, me and Spriggs locked him in his giant workshop."

"Oh good."

"Yeah, but how do you intend to get there? We only have a Warthog."

"My armor has a short-range teleportation system."

He heard a grumble after this was said "Why don't we get one?"

"Were you ever a part of a secret government project that has you implanted with an Artificial Intelligence program?"

"Smart-ass."

"Wait, so I'm paying you for _**that**_?!" Triple M turned to him in anger.

"Would you rather take 5 seconds to teleport and lose 35 bucks, or spend a 3 hour drive to get there and probably crash into something?"

Triple M sighed in defeat. "I hate you sometimes."

"I hate you to, buddy." He cheerfully replied.

* * *

Triple M lay back against the wall of the lake-side base, the stars shining, the blue pulse shooting into the heavens. He placed Meme into his lap, kissing her neck softly, causing her to emit a soft moan.

"Meme," he breathed into her ear "I love you. So. Very. Much." He kissed her between every word.

She burrowed into his chest, smiling. "I love you too, Mitch Miles Murphy-oh!" she gasped as his hands traveled across her body.

"I'm a mechanic. I know how to use my hands." He said, smirking.

His reply was Meme, ripping off his shirt, exposing his recovered, warm torso. He was very tan, a handful of scars popping up here and there, from failed experiments or friendly fire incidents from Willy. Her cool, smooth hands traced the one that was far too close to his heart, kissing it with her soft, pink lips.

"My bunk or your bunk?" she asked, grinning.

"How about right here?"

Little did they know, Jack's helmet, which had been placed by the side of the base, still contained a certain shutterbug of an A.I.

* * *

"Wait, so what do you add in with the onions, Shadow?" Jack asked, staring up at the monitor, looking upon Private Shadow of the Valhalla Outpost, on Isil.

"You add a dash of garlic, a tablespoon a sour cream, and a gallon of salt." The bumbling chef replied, smiling his face off.

"...Shadow... that sounds fucking disgusting... are you _sure_ you went to Emeril's Institute of Cookery, and not some other shitty cooking school?"

"Hey, I don't see you Majoring in 'BAM!'" the idiot countered, still getting a kick out of the chef's catchphrase.

Shadow's rant was interuppted by the gruff voice of Sergent Rico. "Shadow! Quit clownin' around in there and give us our dinner, we're fuckin' starving!"

His voice was joined by a Scottish one. "Yeah, hurry it up, Shadow."

"Wait, I heard something about clowns! I'LL KILL IT! WHERE'S MY CRUSIFIX?"

Jack simply just smacked his head on the table. "Fuck it. I'm just gonna call the guys in Blood Gulch... at least they make more sense than these bat shit crazy fuckers..."

* * *

Yeah, and that's it for this chapter. All that's left is the short epilogue. In which, here's a sneak peek for you guys, Willy reveals his grand plan to be rid of Spriggs… which fails, as per usual.

The epilogue will possibly be up tomorrow. But mostly likely not, because I'm going on vacation for 2 or 3 days. I get to drive the golf cart for my brother and dad while my mom gambles at the casino. Yay. (Sarcasm)

I hate golf. It's so boring. At least in basketball, football, and hockey, you get cheers every time they score. All you get in golf is mild applause.

I'm the art man in my family. Dad's the techhie. Nate's (older bro) the punchy athlete and Mom is… well, the mom.

I'm a musician and a writer. I'm working on my novel. It's actually ok, I just need to get off my lazy ass and write.

**_EDIT_**: Yes, well, an obvious change in this chap... And I have no ownership of the Outpost: Isil series. It is owned by Treeskunk Productions.


	4. Chapter 4

I've gotten a lot of heart-felt reviews for this story, and it's taken a while to finish. I'm glad you guys haven't given up hope on me. But please, check out my other fics while you're at it.

And I'm tired from driving my dad around on the golf course. Yep. Still hate golf. Always will. But I have fun. Oh, and on the way there, Molly sent me a text message… umm… yeah. Kinda ironic.

Being single _sucks_. Saaaaaaaaad faaaaaaaaace. :(

Oh well, I have more time for writing and my friends.

Oh, and **_spoilers_** for episode 14 of Spriggs.

* * *

"Finally," Willy insanely mumbled to himself, "It's all coming together."

Willy had been slaving day and night for this particular project.

But more important things were going on at the moment…

* * *

"Hey, Lovebirds. Wake up so I can go home and eat." Jack said, bored and annoyed that the naked, sticky, sweat slicked couple wouldn't wake up. Eventually, his protests did nothing, so he just fired his shotgun in the air.

That eared Jack a whack on the face, causing him to shout "I did not deserve that."

Once the pair had woken up and even indulged in a quick round two, during which he fell asleep next to the other side of the base, bored out of his mind, Jack slammed his helmet back on.

"Zeta, can you teleport us back to the base?" Triple M asked, the hologram shimmering to life in front of them all.

"Of course."

"Great, just let me and Meme get dressed."

He walked back over to his still sleeping beauty, her naked body shining in the morning sun.

"Meme," he gently whispered, picking her up, "Wake up."

She stirred, gazing up into his happy eyes. "Hey, where's my underwear?"

He pointed over to the shredded remains of her silk bra and panties.

"Oh, I liked that pair."

He grinned, "Hey, it makes up for my shirt. And I'm not complaining."

* * *

Everything back at the base was eerily quiet. Hammer was watching something on the TV in his room, most likely porn, and Spriggs was zooming off, like always. But once again, no sign of Willy.

Jack walked along the wall of the gate, humming a tune, running into Willy, who was setting up a bunch of turrets along the wall.

"Hey Willy, don't you think you should, you know, stop with your insane attempts to be rid of Spriggs?"

"Nope." Willy replied.

"Man, why do you even hate Spriggs in the first place? What'd he ever do to you?"

"Asking me that is like asking why America hates Communism."

"Figured as much. Meh. If you need me, I'll be hangin' out with -"

_Beep Beep!_

"SPRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

At once, Willy's grandiose plan came into fruition. Every one of Willy turrets blasted Spriggs, or at least tried to, unfortunately destroying his Mongoose.

"TO THE JACKMOBILE!"

Jack clambered into his blue and red warthog, the UNSC logo on its hood.

"Spriggs, GET IN!"

He climbed in as fast as he could. Jack floored it, much to Willy's rage, inciting him to blast him with rockets and grenades.

Unfortunately, one of Willy's grenades landed close to the Warthog, I mean, Jackmobile. In a shower of dirt and shrapnel, it flipped over, sending Jack and Spriggs flying.

And Spriggs' red helmet fell a few yards away.

"Wait… YOU'RE A GIRL?!" Jack screamed.

She shushed him, an urgent look upon her face. "Don't yell!"

"I'm sorry, but, why didn't you say anything about it? Or, anything at all, for that matter?"

"I'd rather not explain it, just leave it at that."

He nodded. "I will. Sorry I asked."

She grabbed her helmet, fitting it snugly back over her head.

He watched her walk back towards the base, sneaking around Willy's army of turrets.

"Zeta, can you pull up my screenshots?"

"Yes sir."

A dozen of photos popped up into view. Most of which were Meme and Triple M… having fun, while a few were of Willy shooting Spriggs, and missing. And the last was Spriggs. Without her helmet.

"These are _so_ going up on my Facebook page. Heheheh."

"What is?" a voice asked from behind, nearing giving Jack a heart attack.

He turned, and saw both Triple M and Meme, pointing their pistols at his head.

"Awh fuck…"

* * *

Yep. That's all folks. If you don't like the ending, then quit yer bitching.

And, yeah, if there's one thing I've learned… don't put yourself in stories in which both you and your girlfriend are in them, because, for me, they'll eventually break up with me… Meh. I'm used to it.


End file.
